Page 19 of The Parent Trap
“And that means selling your half to your sister’s worst enemy?”
A shrug. “Better than some random businessman who doesn’t know or care about the family?” A wave of his hand. “And yeah, I know, selling out to her is the better way. But since when have I ever done anything the easy way or the right way? And Iknowyou’ll have fun. And shit, she may be spitting nails at first, but I think this could be good for her.” A grin with the tumbler at his lips, words echoing into the glass. “Shit, maybe she’ll even thank me, someday.”
I know it’s a bad idea. A really, truly, spectacularly bad idea. She very well might physically assault me. But then…I haven’t actually seen or spoken to her in years. Literally, I haven’t laid eyes on her or heard her voice in…ten years at least. Something like that. Maybe things will be different. Better. Less…antagonistic.
It’s still a bad idea. And I’m not entirely sure what’s motivating me when I hear my own voice: “All right, Dell. I’m in. You sell me your interest in the company, and I become part-owner of McKenna Construction.” I point a finger at him. “But if your sister tries to kill us both, it’s on you.”
He grins. “Deal.”
* * *
“For the record,I must protest this decision,” Quentin Albright Quince says, even as he slides a thick contract across the desk to Dell. “It’s a terrible idea. No offense meant to you, Mr. Bristow. And…my understanding of family dynamics leads me to believe Miss McKenna will be…less than thrilled.”
Dell signs at all the requisite places. “I’m paying for your services on this out of my own pocket. It’s my money, my interest in the family business, so it’s my decision.” He slides the contract over to me, along with the pen. “I’m doing this with full knowledge of the consequences, that I’m forfeiting my inheritance. That she may never speak to me again. But shit, she already despises me, so what do I have to lose, right?”
“I’m sure she doesn’t despise you, Dell,” Quentin begins.
Dell snorts. “Don’t bullshit me, Quentin.”
Quentin takes the contract from me when I finish signing it, looks it over. “All seems to be in order. Mr. Bristow, there’s just the matter of payment?”
It had taken me almost a month to shift and liquidate enough assets to afford this. In that time, I’d attended Mr. McKenna’s funeral; I’d stayed in the back, well away from Delia and the family, as well as my own family. I doubt they even knew I was there, honestly.
I’d already set up the wire transfer, so it was a matter of completing it via my bank’s app. With the wire transfer complete, I return my phone to my suit coat’s inner pocket; not sure why, but I felt compelled to wear a suit to this.
“Done,” I say.
Dell sighs, fiddling with a corner of the top piece of paper of the contract. “Thank fucking god that’s done.”
I eye him. “There’s still time to undo it.”
“Hell no,” he says with a laugh. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been, all things considered.” He claps me on the shoulder as he stands up. “If she pitches a fit, tell her the truth: it was my idea and I bullied you into it.”
I cackle. “Yeah, you really bullied me. I’m still traumatized.”
He shoves a hand in the hip pocket of his jeans. “Well, Thai…you’re a fifty percent owner of McKenna Construction. How do you feel?”
I blow out a breath as I wipe my hand down my face. “Honestly? A little scared your sister might actually physically assault me when I show up for the next meeting.” I glance at my watch, in a bizarrely idiotic gesture, considering my next question: “Speaking of which, when are the meetings, Dell?”
He splutters a laugh. “Like I know? I’ve never been to one.”
Quentin sighs; he hands the completed contract to an assistant. “Wednesdays at one thirty,” he murmurs. “At the headquarters in town.”
I jolt to my feet. “Well shit, man, why didn’t you say so sooner? It’s one-twenty and it’s Wednesday.”
Quentin frowns. “You plan on attending the meetings, Mr. Bristow?”
“Of course. I plan on assuming all the roles and duties associated with my ownership stake.”
His frown deepens. “I thought, to be perfectly honest, that this was all some…jape, on your parts.”
I nod. “I understand your position, Quentin, considering my reputation in this town. I’m not that person anymore. Or, at least, I’m trying not to be.”
He leans back and steeples his fingertips in front of himself. “You have your work cut out for you, then, I must admit. You face a very steep uphill battle, where Miss McKenna is concerned.”
The assistant returns with a pair of copies of the contract—one for me, and one for Dell. I hold mine in my hands, while Dell rolls his up into a tight tube and shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans.
I button the middle button of my jacket. “I am well aware of that, I assure you.”